


Birds of a Feather

by Pixiestick_cc



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiestick_cc/pseuds/Pixiestick_cc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beatrice/Wirt drabbles and oneshots. Nothing more. Nothing less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not a Christmas Present

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally just a drabble I posted on tumblr that I thought I should post here to have easier access to and well, in case I felt the need to write more drabbles ... tbh I will probably feel that need.

Beatrice had her arms crossed across her chest to express how she felt, which was, well, cross. “Wirt, I thought we agreed we wouldn’t exchange Christmas gifts. I hate Christmas. It’s just a superficial holiday trying to be something important when it’s really just an excuse for people to be rude and obnoxious and-“

“Terrible human beings … yes, I know. You’ve told me many times,” Wirt sighed, still holding the tiny box with a red bow on top, in his outstretched hand for Beatrice to take. “Can’t you just let me give you this? No strings attached. We don’t even have to say it’s a Christmas present. Say it’s a, um… uh,”

“A what?” Beatrice offered, toning down the annoyance in her voice. Wirt was having difficulty speaking, because of nervousness and even if she was irritated, she hated when he felt insecure around her.

“An … I love you present.”

Wirt had a pained expression on his face, like he was dying of mortification. His cheeks were red and even if she had heard him correctly, Beatrice still was shocked enough to ask him, “A what?”

“Don’t make me say it again. This is so awkward,” Wirt replied, his voice cracking near the end.

“No, no … it’s okay. I’ll take it.” Beatrice took the tiny box from his hand and tried to ignore her own embarrassment at the situation. She wasn’t embarrassed, because he had said it. She was embarrassed that she had been so irritated beforehand. What a way to bring about your boyfriend’s first real declaration of love. After opening the box, she peered down into it to see a tiny bluebird Christmas ornament. “Wirt, this is the definition of a Christmas present. I can’t use this any other time, but at Christmas.” Beatrice laughed.

Wirt’s only response was a loud groan.

“But that’s okay. It’s perfect,” she said. “I might hate Christmas, but I love you too.” Then she bent down slightly to kiss him on the lips. Their first kiss. By the time she pulled away both of them were blushing profusely. “And that can be my Christmas present to you,” she smiled.


	2. Empty Bed

Inspired by [This](http://pixiestickers.tumblr.com/post/106327791985/wintersoldeirs-important-otp-christmas)

They were leaning against the foot of Wirt's bed, watching the small TV on his dresser across the room. Leaning against and not sitting on his bed, because there were house rules for girls in Wirt’s room and one was the bed was off limits. Not that his mom or stepdad were even aware that Wirt had a girlfriend who sometimes came over on Saturday nights when they were out, but that was the excuse he’d given Beatrice. She just lumped it in with all the things that made Wirt different and didn’t really question it.

“Can I jump on it?” she had joked.

“Sure, I guess,” he replied. “But I thought you were the older one in this relationship.”

“You’re never too old to jump on a bed,” Beatrice had laughed and now whenever she was over his girlfriend would take a few seconds to bounce up and down on his mattress just to mess with him. He found it funny and also annoying.

The truth was Beatrice sitting or lying or _anything_ on his bed wasn’t something he was mentally prepared for, so he told her it was off limits, because of rules set by his parents. But he already wasn’t following their rules by having a girl over while he was babysitting his brother. No, he followed the bed rule for his own reasons. It was his rule now, but he would never mention that to Beatrice. He could only see it going two ways. She would laugh, say what a nerd he was and realize her relationship with him was completely not worth her time. Or she would smile, say he was adorable (she did that a lot) and tell him it wasn’t a big deal. Wirt didn’t know which theory was the correct one, so he didn’t test it and that was the reason he was sitting with Beatrice on the floor and not the bed while watching _It’s A Wonderful Life_.

Her head was leaning against his shoulder and he could feel her breath falling onto the skin of his neck every time she exhaled. Although, after awhile, that breathing changed from soft and delicate to heavy and labored and it dawned on Wirt that it had been a while since Beatrice had commented on the movie or said anything at all. He lifted his shoulder slightly to jolt her and asked, “Beatrice, are you asleep?”

“I was,” she grumbled.

“What? How can you sleep through this movie? It’s a classic.” Wirt sounded offended.

Beatrice yawned and moving away from Wirt she stretched her arms. “Because it’s boring." Her tone was mater-of-fact.

“Obviously you don’t know good Christmas cinema like I do,” Wirt replied raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms across his chest to stare her down.

“Pfft, yes I do. Let’s watch that _Elf_ one again.” Beatrice went diving into the pile of DVDs that they had scattered across the floor earlier while looking for _It’s a Wonderful Life_.

Wirt groaned. “We’ve watched that three times already.”

“Because it’s so great! _Santa, I know him!_ ” Beatrice exclaimed and then abandoning her search for _Elf_ , she tackled Wirt to the ground. They wrested for a while, before he wiggled out of her hold and stood up.

“I don’t think we have time for another movie. My parents are going to be home soon and … you know what that means.” Wirt said, disappointing Beatrice. “I have to have time to walk you back to the garden wall and get back here before they do.”

“Time for me to disappear into the night,” she sighed.

“You can change back into your dress. I'll go tell Greg we’re leaving. Hopefully he's still watching cartoons and not destroying the house.” Wirt said and left the room.

Beatrice never liked to wear her own clothes while hanging out with him, opting instead to change into Wirt’s sweat shirt and pants, a luxury they didn’t have on her side of the wall. He didn’t mind, especially, since those clothes always smelled like her after she was gone. It was a nice bit of nostalgia for him during the times when Beatrice wasn’t around.

When Wirt entered his room again, he saw that Beatrice was back in the dress she had come in, but didn’t acknowledge his presence. Instead her eyes were fixated on something above his bed’s headboard. Coming to stand beside his girlfriend, Wirt asked, “Are you ready?”

Beatrice turned her head to look at him, a mischievous grin on her face. “Wirt, why did you tape mistletoe on the wall above your bed? Are you trying to tell me something?”

Wirt hadn’t put any mistletoe anywhere, but just like Beatrice said, there was some taped above his bed. He could only think of one person who would do that and she was standing right next to him. “Ha Ha. Nice try,” he laughed sarcastically.

“I didn’t put it there,” Beatrice replied.

“Cut it out, Beatrice,” Wirt said dismissively. He didn’t like that he sounded annoyed, but it was better she hear that in his voice than the embarrassment flooding him. He moved away from Beatrice to open his door, but she turned around and grasped his hand in hers before he could.

“Wirt, I didn’t do that and I don’t know why you’re putting me in this position. This isn’t funny.”

Wirt’s cheeks were flushing red and with a sigh, he turned to Beatrice. He didn’t want to fight with her and could see that she was upset and so, with all the strength he could muster he tried to lift his girlfriend up into his arms like he had seen done so many times in so many movies. But Wirt wasn’t in a movie and was significantly smaller than your average A-list heartthrob. Down he crashed to the ground taking Beatrice along with him.

“What are you doing?” she asked Wirt, exasperated.

“I was trying to carry you to the bed to kiss you. That’s what I thought you wanted.”

They were both sitting on the floor now and Wirt placed his head in his hands, hoping that maybe it would make time stop. But the soft touch of Beatrice removing one of his hands to reveal a side of his face, convinced Wirt to let the other fall into his lap. “Wirt,” her voice was gentle. “No matter what you think, I did not put that milestone up there and I’m starting to think you didn’t either. I thought you did it as a joke, but I suppose that would be more something I'd do. It doesn’t matter, though. We don’t have to do anything if you’re uncomfortable with it. The bed is off limits. I get it.”

“But I’m not uncomfortable … it’s house rules,” he protested even though it was a lie.

Beatrice sent him a look that told him she wasn’t buying it. “Okay, nerd.”

Wirt glowered, which made Beatrice laugh. He loved her laugh, and her … and at that particular moment he wanted nothing more than give his girlfriend a kiss. Wirt slowly leaned in and picking up on his cue, Beatrice mimicked his movements until their lips met. His arms came out to reach around her waist and she moved hers around his neck and before long they were laying on the floor again, locked in a kiss that lasted several minutes. “See we don’t need a bed,” Beatrice softly laughed after they separated.

Wirt replied with another kiss, but scrambled away from Beatrice when he heard the door to his room open. It was too late though, Greg had already seen them. “Oh wow. Mom _was_ right. Mistletoe does make people kiss.”

"Greg?!" Wirt responded angrily. "Did you put that in my room?"

He smiled, completely oblivious of Wirt's irritation. "Just wanted to see if it was true." 

Beatrice laughed and Wirt rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's get Beatrice home," he said, taking hold of his girlfriend's hand, their fingers lacing.

"I'll lead the way!" Greg exclaimed, running from the room with Beatrice and Wirt trailing behind him.


	3. Road Trip

Based on this [post ](http://thechunkyballerina.tumblr.com/post/107056897346/no-but-bea-coming-over-to-our-side-and-wirt) from [thechunckyballerina](http://thechunkyballerina.tumblr.com/)

* * *

"I’m not getting into that thing with you," Beatrice stated firmly and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Why not?" Wirt mimicked her crossed arms pose and the two stood in front of each other, determination written across their faces, but each for a different goal. Wirt to have his girlfriend ride in his new albeit used car and Beatrice to live to see another day.

"If I get in there I will die," she stated flatly. 

Wirt rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. You won’t die. The guy I bought this from was old. He said he only drove it to and from the grocery store for years.”

"Wirt, it’s not the car I’m worried about. I watched you learn how to drive and … you suck." Beatrice kissed Wirt gently on the lips to help soften the blow, but he wasn’t having it.

"I didn’t suck enough that the state didn’t give me my license," he countered.

"There must have been a technicality. They felt sorry for you." 

Wirt wanted to argue more, but didn’t see how that would help his cause. Arguing with Beatrice always had the opposite effect of what he was trying accomplish. Instead he reached into his car and pulled out a cassette tape, handing it to Beatrice. ”Hey, guess what?” he said. “This car is such an old model that it still has a cassette player and I made a tape just for our little road trip.”

Beatrice looked over the tape and lingered on the words  _Beatrice and Wirt’s Road Trip_  written in pen across the front. “What’s on it?” she asked.

"Mostly The Beach Boys. I was going to take you to the beach and obviously by their name they sing a lot of uh … beach songs." Wirt rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “What about Kesha?”

Wirt’s response was a loud groan. “No, there isn’t any Kesha on here, but to make you happy I also brought this.” Wirt opened the driver's side door again and pulled out another cassette tape labeled _Pop Songs for Bea that I Hate_. “Here.” Wirt dropped the tape into his girlfriend’s hands.

"Yes!" Beatrice exclaimed loudly just to annoy Wirt and he gave her a look that over the course of their relationship she had learned meant - are you done now?

"Okay, I’ll go with you on one condition," Beatrice offered.

"What’s that?"

"That I get to play DJ." Beatrice winked at him.

Wirt let out a loud sigh that Beatrice felt was a little unnecessary. “Okay,” he finally agreed.

"And also," she added. "You have to keep me alive."


	4. Nightly Rituals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh … this came out full of angst and I rarely write angst, so I’m not sure why, but that’s the direction this prompt wanted to take me. Post Canon by a few years. AU-ish

Prompt from [tanicuscaesareth](http://tanicuscaesareth.tumblr.com/): **Nightly Routine for Beatrice and Wirt**

It had become a nightly ritual. A nightly one, because Beatrice always waited till the last second to wake up in the morning. Barely able to choke down large mouthfuls of a granola bar, while racing out the door for a job she was habitual late for, left little room for her to focus on the afterthoughts of life. But at night there was time; time to think about and stare at the ugliness. She was the only member of her family that had them, painful reminders of a mistake that would forever be etched into her back. Every night she would undress in front of the floor length mirror in her bedroom, turn around and gaze behind to see the long, pink, iridescent lines. There were two that began at each shoulder blade and ended halfway down her back. They deviated from a straight path at times, with small branches that broke off to create their own trails. The darkness of the pink had faded over time, but not all the way. It was the curse. She could be human again, but never forget that there once had been wings where those scars were now. They were reminders of what she had done. They were her burden to bear.

It had become a nightly ritual for him. The first time Wirt came in to see Beatrice staring at her scars, he had tried to console her, and reminded her that she wasn’t that person anymore, the one whose cruelty had earned her those marks. But no matter what he said, it never stopped her from looking and remembering. Maybe that was the point of the curse. She wouldn’t ever be able to forget and Wirt slowly understood that it wasn’t in his power to fight that type of magic. He was just an ordinary man in love in an extraordinary woman who happened to be plagued by a curse. He could only be there for her and without a word, every night, he would hold Beatrice. He would stay this way, his arms firmly around her, until she was able to walk away from the guilt and remember that the curse did not own her, that no matter what had happened before, his love for her would always overshadow that.


	5. Drunk Confessions

One of my favorite scenes from [_10 Things I Hate About You_](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0147800/?ref_=ttfc_fc_tt) is when Heath Ledger is trying to control a drunk Julia Stiles. I love it so much I have it memorized in my head and so, when [this](http://otpdisaster.tumblr.com/post/110309339170/person-a-escorting-a-very-drunk-person-b-home) little otp thing showed up in my tumblr feed the other day, I felt the need to write it for Wirt and Beatrice. This is canon with the IYLPP universe, so if you haven't read my other fics for them you could still read this, but a few things might be confusing for you here.

* * *

It was late. Wirt knew, because he’d been sleeping when his phone rang. Bleary eyed, he picked up the device that was charging on his nightstand and read the name across its screen.

Sara.

Instantly Wirt sat up in bed. Beatrice was at Sara’s. Why would she be calling so late if something wasn’t wrong? His natural instinct to think the worst in any situation took over and he pushed the button that would let him find out what exactly was going on. “Sara,” he whispered frantically into the phone. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Uh, nothing. Well, nothing that’s serious, so you can calm down,” she answered.

“But, why are you calling so late if everything’s fine?”

“Wirt, it’s only 10:00 on a Friday night. Not exactly late unless you’re an old man,” Sara chuckled. “Which you sometimes can be.”

Wirt glanced over at his alarm clock and saw that she was right. He must have fallen asleep while reading and up until that moment hadn’t noticed the lamp atop his nightstand was still on. “Okay, whatever. But you said something was wrong, just not that serious. So, tell me,” Wirt spoke into the phone.

“Um, well, do you think you can come over? Beatrice is …” Sara’s voice trailed off as she said something muffled in the background. He couldn't make out the exact words, but had picked up on the phrase _stop that_.

“Beatrice is what?” Wirt asked, his voice slightly demanding as he grew annoyed.

“Don’t get mad, okay. It’s my birthday,” Sara pleaded.

He knew it was her birthday. It was the reason Beatrice was staying the night at Sara’s in the first place and not spending her Friday over the wall with him. “Well, if you don’t want me to be mad about whatever happened, then you’ll have to at least tell me what it is.”

“Okay, well, I did something dumb, but it’s a teenage rite of passage, so I’m allowed this one dumb screw up, right?”

“Sara, I wouldn’t know, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Wirt was exasperated.

“Alright, alright … see, I wanted to do a celebratory birthday shot, so I got into my dad’s liquor cabinet and took out some whiskey. We both did two shots and I’m fine, but Beatrice … she must be a lightweight, because she’s drunk and being so loud. If my dad comes home and she’s still like this then he’ll know.” Sara sounded distressed.

“Yeah, and your dad never punishes you for anything,” Wirt reminded her.

“Not this time. He’s really strict about underage drinking, you know, because of what happened to my mom.”

A metaphorical light bulb switched on in Wirt’s head as her request suddenly made sense to him. When Sara was four, she and her mom had been hit by a drunk driver. Sara survived. Her mom didn’t. With a sigh, Wirt used his hand not holding the phone to rub his eyes. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you so much. I just can’t control her, but maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“Me control Beatrice?” Wirt had to laugh. “I’m not so sure you know her as well as I do. No one controls Beatrice.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’d be surprised at how much she talks about you. In fact, drunk Beatrice finds Wirt very sexy. I’ve been hearing about it for the last thirty minutes. Use it to your advantage to get her to shut up,” Sara suggested, but Wirt brushed her off.

“I’ll see you soon,” he replied.

Twenty minutes later Wirt showed up on Sara’s doorstep. “Where’s your mom’s van?” she asked, answering the door after he rang the bell.

“I rode my bike. I didn’t want to get into why I needed to drive somewhere this late, even if it _is_ a Friday. My mom asks too many questions.” Knowing himself, Wirt would have probably slipped up and admitted that he was leaving to pick up his drunk girlfriend. That wouldn’t have earned Beatrice any points in his mom’s eyes. His dating life was hard enough due to living in a different world than Beatrice. He didn’t want to add his mom’s disapproval to the mix. “I just made a big scene about how I was going to bed and then snuck outside.”

“Such a risk taker,” Sara joked and tried to let him inside, but without so much as taking a step through the door frame, Wirt was attacked by two strong arms pulling him into a crushing embrace.

“Wirt, you didn’t tell me you were coming over for Sara’s birthday. Sara, did you see Wirt was here? He wants to say Happy Birthday,” Beatrice said too loudly and then released him to grasp Sara and shake her. “Do you see him? He’s here.”

Sara gave Wirt a look that he interpreted as _see what I mean?_ and then said to Beatrice, “Yes, I do know he’s here. I was trying to let him inside.”

“Did you come to …” Beatrice pressed an index finger against her lips and made a shushing sound, but then abruptly transitioned into a hard laugh that she loudly sucked back in, before finishing her question. “To drink some drinks with us,” she whispered and then unceremoniously plopped herself onto the foyer’s floor.

“No, actually, I came to take you for a walk, so we can get some coffee and sober you up,” Wirt told her, and crouching down, he used his limited strength to pull her back up into a unsteady standing position.

His girlfriend made a face like she was deeply disgusted. “I don’t like coffee, Wirt. You know that. It’s gross.”

“Oh, but I think you’ll uh, like this coffee. It’s made especially for you,” he tried to placate Beatrice.

“Really? For me?” Her eyes grew wide. “Beatrice coffee?”

“Yes, just for you. You’ll love it. It’s dark and bitter like your soul,” Wirt teased and through her drunkenness, Beatrice appeared to catch on. She laughed loudly over his joke for a good minute. “Okay, um ... it wasn’t that funny,” he chuckled uneasily.

“Oh, you,” Beatrice said, and pushed her finger against his nose, making a sound effect. Wirt wasn’t exactly sure what she had been trying to imitate, but he laughed anyway.

“Looks like you’re pretty funny too. Why don’t we go talk about how funny we both are over some coffee?” Wirt thought the best approach to Beatrice was to treat her like he did Greg. Making it seem like everything she did and said was important, while also enthusiastically trying to redirect her into the right way of thinking.

“Oh my, Wirt. Your eyes are so pretty. Like brown circles of mud. I want to splash in them,” Beatrice slurred, getting right into his face, where he could smell the whiskey on her breath.

“Gee, thanks. Having mud eyes is the best compliment you’ve ever given me.” Wirt looked over Beatrice’s shoulder at Sara, who was silently laughing. “I’m going to take her out for a little bit. I’ll call you when we’re done.”

Sara gave him the thumbs up, and slowly he maneuvered Beatrice out the door.

Despite his girlfriend being about the same size as him and only a few inches taller, Wirt was having difficulty shouldering the burden of her weight as they walked down the street. Beatrice wasn’t helpful at all. She took full advantage of him tugging her along and eventually, Wirt felt the need to say something. “Beatrice, do you think you can stop leaning on me so much? I’m- I’m having trouble,” he grunted while shifting her weight, “holding you.”

“Whaaat?” Beatrice asked. “But you always love holding me in your big strong arms.” The way she spoke reminded him of some movie siren trying to seduce the good guy in an action film and Wirt rolled his eyes. No more _Bond_ movies for Beatrice.

“Yes, well, this is slightly different than holding you while we’re kissing and-” Wirt stopped talking when Beatrice began wobbling away. “Where- hey! Where are you going? Come here.” He chased after her, but she hadn’t gotten far after stumbling into the grass of someone’s yard.

“Wirt, I fell,” Beatrice said as he approached. Her face looked up at him bewildered.

“Yes, I see.” Wirt reached down and wrapping his arm around her waist, he brought her back up. “Why did you walk away?”

Beatrice exaggerated a pout and replied, “You said you didn’t want to hold me anymore. I was trying to walk to … where?” Beatrice lost her train of thought as Wirt draped her arm back around his shoulders. He was just going to have to deal with carrying her.

“To get some coffee,” Wirt finished her sentence.

“I don’t want coffee,” Beatrice whined. “I want to go to your room and make out. I want to kiss your hair.”

“My hair?” Wirt laughed in surprise.

Beatrice nodded slowly and reached up to run a hand through the thing she claimed to want to kiss. “Yes, I like the cute way it sticks up all the time.”

“Okay, maybe you can kiss my hair later,” Wirt offered.

“Want to know what else?” Beatrice whispered into his ear, like she had a big secret. “I like your big ears.”

“Yeah?”

“And your big nose,” she added.

“Are you trying to compliment me or give me a complex about my unfortunately large facial features?” His brow furrowed. Drunk Beatrice wasn’t exactly making him feel good about himself.

“And I like your big-”

“Hey!” Wirt snatched her hand away from trailing further down his stomach, before she could do anything she would regret tomorrow … that was if she remembered. “Beatrice, how would you know … you know what … never mind. Keep talking about my face. Let’s bring the attention back up here. What do you think of my mouth?”

“And I like how you blush when I embarrass you,” Beatrice said and then threw her head back to laugh loudly. Somewhere off in the distance a dog barked.

“Yeah, well. That _was_ embarrassing,” Wirt mumbled.

“I’m not sorry,” Beatrice firmly stated.

“And I’m not surprised,” Wirt sighed.

“Can I tell you something else?” she asked after a minute passed.

Wirt raised an eyebrow. “Would you not tell me if I said, no?”

Beatrice thought for a moment and answered, “No. I would still tell you.”

Wirt was amused. “Then why ask?”

“To be polite, you asshole!”

“See there, right there, that was a polite word you just called me,” Wirt playfully responded to her insult and Beatrice nodded.

“It was,” she agreed, although Wirt wasn’t sure if she had caught on to his sarcasm.

“Okay, what did you want to tell me?” he encouraged her to continue when she didn’t say anything afterward.

A large smile spread across Beatrice’s mouth. It was the expression Wirt thought of most when she wasn’t around. Although, there seemed to be a bit of drunken sloppiness to it this time. “I love you,” she finally said.

“Oh, that’s nice. I love you too,” Wirt replied just as he opened the door to the all night diner and led Beatrice inside.

“Hey, Wirt, they’re playing our song!” Beatrice suddenly yelled, and the four other customers inside turned to look at the very loud redhead who had forgotten how to use her inside voice.

Wirt shushed Beatrice and helped her into a booth, then slid in beside her. “Our song is by The Spice Girls?” he asked. Wirt wasn’t even aware the two of them had a song. If they did it certainly wasn’t the one being played over the restaurant speakers at that moment.

“Oh, wait, no. This isn’t it,” Beatrice sighed and suddenly looked very sleepy as she rested her head against his shoulder.

“Hey,” Wirt shrugged the shoulder she was leaning on and Beatrice started.

“What?” she yawned.

“Since you got to tell me all the things you like about me, how about I return the favor?” Wirt suggested, but Beatrice didn’t seem that interested. Sleepiness had taken over her drunk frenzy. Wirt continued anyways. “I like your blue eyes that remind me of the blue feathers you used to have. I like all the freckles on your skin that I sometimes count when you’re sitting next to me. And …” He reached down under the table and laced his fingers with hers. “I love your loud personality that manages to become even louder when you're drunk.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Beatrice said softly as she began to doze and Wirt didn’t wake her when she eventually began to snore against his shoulder.


	6. Used To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sentence Starter Drabble Prompt: “I want to spend the night with you tonight. But I also want to sleep on your side. And without you on the bed. So technically I just want your bed.”

“I want to spend the night with you tonight.”

Wirt thought he wasn’t hearing her right. She couldn’t be asking what he thought she was. 

Beatrice was lying across his bed and he was on the floor, pulling apart his used record player. “Didn’t you hear me? I said I want to spend the night with you tonight.” Her question came out louder this time and sounded just a little too irritated for his tastes. He wondered what exactly she had to be irritated about. 

“I heard you,” he mumbled, not looking up. This had to be one of her jokes. She liked to mess with him and Wirt chose indifference in the face of one of her pranks. He went back to fiddling with the old record player in his lap, trying to get it to work again.

“And?”

“And nothing. It’s a twin bed, so you can’t,” Wirt replied, still unaffected by her attempt to fluster him. He was too used to her tricks. 

“Well, actually, I want to sleep on your side,” she clarified. “So technically I just want your bed.”

This actually made Wirt roll his eyes and he looked up at her finally. “And where am I supposed to sleep?”

“On the floor, I guess. I don’t care,” Beatrice sighed grumpily.

Wirt went back to working on his project and Beatrice huffed. He thought he should ask her why she seemed so bent out of shape, but he really just needed to get the damn player to work again. 

A few minutes later, after pulling the right wire, Wirt let out a loud “Ha!” when he placed the needle down on his recently bought  _Beatles_ album and heard music begin to play. With a smug grin on his face he began to say, “And you said it was a piece of junk, guess you were-” but his voice broke when he saw his bed empty. Beatrice was gone and her disappearance was a complete mystery to him. How had she gotten by him without even a sound? Abandoning the player mid-song, Wirt jumped to his feet and eventually found Beatrice outside sitting on the stairs of his porch. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, coming to sit beside her. 

She refused to look at him and shrugged. “What? Is this because of the bed thing,” he said. “Look, you can’t expect me to always take the bait. I know you too well by now. Am I just supposed to act embarrassed even when I’m not, because you enjoy torturing me that way?”

Her eyes were still staring off in the opposite direction of him and Wirt exhaled loudly in frustration. “Okay, well, here … If it’s the only way to make you happy.” Wirt cleared his throat and made his voice an octave higher. “What sleep with me in my bed. We can’t do that! We’re t-too young!”

This made Beatrice laugh softly and mumble, “Nerd,” under her breath.

He took her hand and she finally looked at him. “Do you want to see why I was so preoccupied with that player?” 

Her shoulders raised and lowered nonchalantly, showing she was still holding a grudge. But it was better than a no, so Wirt took what he was given and led her back to his room. Sitting on the floor near the player, he motioned for her to join him and after Beatrice moved in besides Wirt, he played the music again. It took a few seconds of moving the needle back and forth before he found the right song, but soon the lyrics to  _And your bird can sing_  began to play. He grinned at Beatrice and she looked bored. “Another bird song?”

“What?” Wirt asked defiantly. “It’s a good song.”

“And the reason you played it for me has nothing to do with what I used to be?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Stop being so conceited. Not everything is about you,” he playfully answered and she punched his arm.

“Sometimes I feel like we’re like an old married couple. I can’t fluster you anymore and you’re still playing bird songs for me, because you think it’s funny,” Beatrice groused.

“Is that so bad? I’d rather be comfortable with each other than still be fighting over every little thing,” Wirt replied sincerely and Beatrice smiled.

“Yeah, when you say it like that, I guess it’s not so bad,” she conceded and they kissed.


	7. Between Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An abandoned chapter of 'Bases'. Uploaded here as a oneshot to round out the IYLPP Universe.

Keeping secrets from Sara wasn’t something Beatrice did often. Where she had been closed off and guarded before, she was now open and honest; partly because of Wirt, but also because of life changes she had made of her own accord. Not everyone was out to get her. It  _was_ possible to open up and be vulnerable in front of those she trusted.

But there were particular things Beatrice refused to share, like the intimate details of her relationship with Wirt. For as much as she let her mouth run when anger struck, Beatrice was very tight lipped on her dating life. At first it was for societal reasons. Courting wasn’t the same over on Wirt’s side. People were commonly open about what they did probably too much. But in her world, it wasn’t customary to hear couples discuss their relationship out in the open. Beatrice just kept in step with that. Then after a while, it became a personal issue. She didn’t want to share because it would take away from the intimacy between her and Wirt.

So, much to Sara’s frustration, her insight into that part of Beatrice had always been limited. But as Beatrice soon found out, you couldn’t keep such a momentous change as losing your virginity and becoming engaged from your best friend’s sixth sense.

Her, Wirt, and Sara were heading back home after a day spent visiting the college Sara had decided was nice, but was probably too far away to attend. Four hours was a long drive and she wanted to be close enough to check in with her father every once in a while. For most of the day, Beatrice had managed to keep the events of the night before from seeping into her conversations with Sara, but in doing so, she had also managed to keep much of a conversation going at all and her friend had taken notice. “What’s going on with you?” Sara had asked, standing in front of the bathroom sink of the cheap restaurant they had stopped at just off the highway.

“What do you mean?” Beatrice replied from her position at the sink alongside Sara’s. She stared at her hands underneath the running water, hoping her friend wasn’t hinting at what she thought she was.

“Don’t play dumb. You’ve been weirdly quiet all day and not once did you complain about the long drive. When we went to the beach last summer you were extremely frustrated at being cooped up for so long and that was only a two hour drive. So, my question to you,  _imposter_ , is where is the real Beatrice and what have you done with her?”

“Knock it off,” Beatrice commented offhandedly, hoping her indifference would make Sara lose interest. She then avoided her friend’s gaze by trying to pull a paper towel from its dispenser, but grumbled at finding it empty. In its place, she did a quick wipe of her hands against the fabric of her pants, before finally looking up to face Sara. Only, Beatrice found her friend inches from her face and let out a scream of surprise. “What the hell, Sara?” She pushed her back.

“The real you would have joked along with the imposter thing. You're hiding something!” Sara accused, but her voice wasn’t annoyed. It came out light and airy, like Beatrice was a fun puzzle she had to solve.

“I’m not hiding anything. You’re the weird one making things up about me,” Beatrice lied, angry at herself for being so transparent.

No one in her family had noticed anything different with her the morning after, although Andrew  _had_ accused Wirt of having a dumb grin on his face. It was during breakfast, when everyone had gathered to eat around the dining area table. Beatrice, sitting directly across from her fiancé, had run her foot along the inseam of his pants, stopping just short of his inner thigh, but threatened with her eyes to go further. Wirt had sent her a warning look, but wasn’t able to suppress a grin from breaking out on his face, and Beatrice looked down at her food, trying not to giggle. That was when Andrew, still upset about George, had commented on Wirt’s inappropriate expression. After that, Beatrice dropped her foot and Wirt stumbled through a lame excuse about remembering a joke. Her brother had glared, but then let it fade when their mother ordered him to, “Leave poor Wirt alone.”

After that incident, Beatrice decided to play it safe. Everyone was still in mourning over their dog and to them she shouldn’t have any reason to be different. She made a concerted effort to hide her happiness, but it had backfired with Sara. Now her forced reserve had made her friend suspicious and unfortunately for Beatrice, Sara wasn’t a meathead like Andrew. A fact she proved all too well seconds later when her brain set the puzzle pieces in place. “Oh my god!” A wide grin pulled at the corners of Sara’s mouth. “Wirt’s been quiet too- which isn’t weird for him, but he hasn’t said anything about you acting different and he always notices when you’re off. It has to be because he already knows the reason. Why say anything if you know, right? Especially when it would mean talking about sex in front of me … you guys had sex!” She exclaimed the last part and Beatrice jumped.

Just then a toilet flushed and a rough looking woman came out of a stall. She gave them both a strange look and left the bathroom. “That’s disgusting. She didn’t even wash her hands.” Beatrice mentioned, trying to distract Sara, but the effort was worthless. It was already too late.

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Sara said, moving to block Beatrice who was attempting to escape through the door.

“So what if I did?” Beatrice huffed. “That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t feel like talking about it. You always said sex wasn’t as big of a deal as my mother made it out to be, so why are you acting like it is?”

“Not big enough that you should have to wait till your wedding night, but it’s still a significant step for any relationship and you’ve held out for two years. I’m just ...wow, it finally happened.” Sara’s expression shifted into one that appeared expectant, non-verbally communicating to Beatrice-  _tell me all about it!_

“No, no, no, no. No! You are not getting any information out of me.” Beatrice denied access into her memories from the night before and the glee on Sara’s face instantly vanished.

“Why are you always so put off by me asking about you two? Need I remind you that I’ve done nothing but be supportive since the beginning, despite him being my ex-boyfriend? And seriously, I’m only asking because I care about your happiness. Something good and exciting happened to you and I want to share that excitement with my best friend. Is that so wrong?”

Beatrice was failing at keeping her expression angry in the face of Sara’s appeal. The way she could worm stuff out of her was something Beatrice always found frustrating, but it didn’t make her friend a bad person. She was just tenacious, like Beatrice, and her words struck a chord. A lot of what had happened between her and Wirt since she fell over the wall, had been encouraged and also enabled by Sara. And in the end, Beatrice’s visits were not only to see Wirt, but to spend time with Sara too. Exhaling slowly, she playfully pushed Sara against the exit of the restroom. “You know I could kick your ass for being so pushy.”

“But you won’t, because you love me,” Sara said, showing off all her teeth in an overly enthusiastic smile.

“Eh, that’s debatable.” Beatrice snorted.

“But you love Wirt ... enough to have sex with him.” Her tone was encouraging and Beatrice sighed in resignation.

A quick abridged version of her time in the barn with Wirt was given to Sara that intentionally left out the more painfully embarrassing details … like Beatrice crying. But she did relate the most important change, which had been losing her status as a spinster- a term those in the nearby village had taken to whispering behind her back.

If Sara had acted shocked when figuring out Beatrice had finally had sex, her expression upon learning about the engagement grew downright floored. “But you’re only nineteen! Wirt isn’t even out of high school yet!” Sara’s jaw fell.

“It’s not anything that will happen right away obviously. We’ll need time to set up a life over there for us, before he can move,” Beatrice replied, her voice steady in the face of Sara’s consternation, but she also crossed her arms beneath her breasts definitely. She didn’t like the feeling of being on the defensive, especially with Sara; someone who claimed to be supportive. If they didn’t have her blessing then what would it be like telling her parents. Or worse, Wirt’s.

Sara must have noticed the change in Beatrice demeanor, because she snapped her mouth shut and smiled. “I’m sorry. That came out way too argumentative, which wasn’t my intention at all. It’s just ... to me, it does seem like you guys are too young, but you’ve obviously been through a lot together ... things I couldn’t even begin to understand. So, I’m sure you and Wirt know what you’re doing.” Then she reached out and gave Beatrice a quick hug. “Just promise me one thing, okay?” Sara said, when they pulled apart.

“What?”

“You’ll veto any sappy song from some whiny male artist that Wirt will no doubt want to play at your reception,” Sara snidely remarked.

“My reception?” The skin between Beatrice’s eyebrows wrinkled together. It dawned on her then that as someone who had always felt an aversion to the idea of marriage, she actually knew very little about the ceremony that came before it.

Sara giggled at her confusion. “If there’s one thing you need to know about girls from this side of the wall, it’s that we usually go through a phase where obsessing about weddings is a thing. Not all of us. Some are smart enough to realize that there’s more to life than planning a future wedding, but at age thirteen I was not one of those girls. So, any questions you have, I should be able to answer. Let me take you under my wing and show you the ways of my people.”

Beatrice eyed her friend cautiously. “Okay, but don’t get carried away. I don’t really like weddings. And don’t mention anything to Wirt about what I told you, okay? It will just make him self-conscious and the rest of the drive back will be unbearable. You know how he gets.”

Sara chuckled. “I won’t say anything,” she promised, but then bolted out the door, forcing Beatrice to chase after her.

Wirt was waiting near the entrance of the restaurant, looking bored and somewhat annoyed. His eyes lit up when he saw Beatrice, but grew wider when he saw that she was chasing after Sara. “Don’t you dare!” Beatrice warned, once they both were standing in front of him.

Sara gave her a false look of confusion and replied, “What? I just wanted say hi to my friend Wirt.” Then turning to Wirt she greeted, “Hi, Wirt.”

“Uh, hi?” He looked confused and his eyes darted between Sara and Beatrice.

Beatrice fumed at Sara, but she also wasn’t proud of herself for taking the bait. Her instincts should have known, considering it was probably something she would have done if the shoe were on the other foot. But, Beatrice refrained from snapping at her friend and instead just appreciated a good tease for what it was.


End file.
